


a kiss atop of his head

by goodcliche



Series: one shots [1]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 04:06:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14464647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodcliche/pseuds/goodcliche
Summary: mitch wakes up from a nightmare with a panic/anxiety attack, and beau fetches scott to calm him down





	a kiss atop of his head

****Scott's alarm clock showed 03:26, and he blinked lazily. He was lost as to why he was awake all of sudden, especially since he usually slept through the night. He was warm, and wrapped his hands a little tighter around the sheets, pulling them closer to his body.

"Scott."

He stifled a yawn, but looked over to from where his name was being called from anyways. It was dark in his room but for a little strip of light coming from the hall, just barely illuminating the figure in his room. The figure's voice sounded urgent, though, and hissed his name once again.

"Beau?" Scott furrowed his brows, confused as to why Mitch's boyfriend was in his room at half past three in the morning, waking him up.

Oh. Wait. _Mitch's boyfriend was waking him up at half past three in the morning._

Mitch.

Scott's eyes were suddenly open wide, and he shot upright, cursing and trying to push the sheets off of his body, leaving him cold.

"Is Mitch okay?" Was the first coherent sentence that left his mouth. He was already patting his bed for the shirt he had discarded last night. The fabric was soft in his hand, and within seconds, the shirt was pulled over his head. His eyes had started to adjust to the dark a little by now, and he focused them on Beau again.

The latter gulped, hesitant. "Needs you, is all he said. I-" the younger man pursed his lips, and Scott managed to force a sympathetic smile on his face. "I think he had an especially bad nightmare or something, he wouldn't stop shaking and crying."

Scott was on his feet even before Beau had even finished his sentence. His heart was already filled with dread for his best friend. He knew this routine. Knew it was most likely a nightmare with a panic or anxiety attack following that. He nodded towards Beau, walking past him and to Mitch's room. He wasn't trying to be rude, but he couldn't really bring himself to care about Mitch's boyfriend now.

He opened the door softly, eyes flickering to the bed immediately. Where his movements had been quick and hurried when walking to Mitch's room from his own, he was now more cautious, willing his heartbeat and breathing to slow down.

"Mitchy?"

Movement happened, but still the only thing Scott heard were the small sobs coming from the bed. He slowly walked closer, trying not to make too much noise.

"Hey, Mitchy."

Scott bent through his knees, getting almost on eye level with Mitch. The brunette had the covers tight around him. His eyes were blown wide, tears streaming, and his whole body was shaking. Scott could feel the simple fear radiating off him. Their eyes locked, and he tried to give his best friend a gentle smile.

"Hey, baby," Scott lightly laid one of his hands on Mitch's shoulder, barely putting pressure on it, "let me in?"

The ever so slightest nod was made, and Scott let the tips of his fingers walk over the covers to the edge, pulling it back and lifting it. He crawled in, trying to make the least possible movement or noise, focusing on keeping his breathing steady. Mitch whimpered something that Scott could decipher as his own name. As soon as he was lying down, before even putting the cover back or wrapping his arms around Mitch, the boy latched onto him, clenching his shirt between his fists and letting out louder, hitched sobs. He buried his head against Scott's chest, the top of it barely sticking out over his shoulder.

Scott shifted the covers a little, pulling them over his shoulder, against the back of Mitch's head and as tight against his shaking back as he could manage. He cradled Mitch's head with his left hand, hooking his arm underneath Mitch. His right arm was slung across Mitch protectively, his fingers already tracing gentle circles through the fabric of his sweat-stained shirt.

"Sssshhh, baby, it's okay now." He pressed a small kiss atop of his head. "I'm here now, honey."

Mitch was hot and sticky from sweat, and Scott could feel his own shirt start to get wet from his tears. He buried his nose between Mitch's hair, pressing down kisses ever so often.

"Breathe with me, Mitchy. Breathe."

He fumbled with one of Mitch's hands, unclenching it from his shirt and flattening it against his chest.

"Here, feel that, baby? You can feel my heart beating?" Maybe it was a nod, or maybe it was Mitch shaking, but Scott put his hand over Mitch's, moving it down to his steadily rising and falling stomach.

"Feel that, too? That's me breathing. Breathe with me, honey. In." Scott took an extra deep breath in, exaggerating maybe just a little. "Hold." He waited a second or two, "And breathe out." He let out a long breath, until there physically wasn't any air left to breathe out. He splayed Mitch's fingers, putting his own between them as he counted out another deep, slow breath.

Slowly, he let his hand slide out from between their bodies, leaving Mitch's alone on his stomach, and trailed it along Mitch's side again, down to the hem of his shirt. He put one finger underneath Mitch's shirt, immediately noting the big contrast. Whereas Scott's hand was relatively cold, and Mitch had felt warm and sweaty even from just touching his shirt, his skin was warm and dripping with small beads of sweat. Scott flattened his hand, though, running it up and down Mitch's back.

His other hand was situated at the bottom of Mitch's neck, his pointer finger drawing a small continuous circle on the nape of it.

"You're doing great, honey. Just keep breathing, that's all that matters." He pressed small kisses atop of his head, all while rubbing Mitch's back soothingly and drawing circles with his finger in his neck. "It won't last, baby. You're okay."

Mitch's hand was back to gripping Scott's shirt, but he had almost completely stopped shaking. His breathing was more even, though still way too fast and hitching every few breaths. Scott closed his eyes for a moment, and let his chin rest atop of Mitch's head. He willed himself to be silent, if even for a couple seconds, and to just focus on breathing. Focus on his breath just like he had asked Mitch to do. He whispered encouragements to Mitch, told him he was here now, that it wouldn't last. That he loved him so much and was proud of him, that all he had to do for now was just breathe, okay?

"Can you talk, honey? Tell me five things you can see?"

It was a commonly used grounding technique. One they used often enough, separately and when calming the other down. Granted, Scott was the one calming Mitch down and talking to him more often than the other way around, but they had made a habit out of it.

Scott felt a small nod against his chest, and he pressed another kiss atop of Mitch's head in reaction. He pulled back a little, forcing a little space between him and the tenor so he could look down at Mitch. One of his hand travelled to his chin, pushing it up a little. When brown eyes met his, searching, he granted Mitch another small smile.

Mitch's breath was shaking, hitching, and he was stumbling over his words. Scott's eyes. Scott's tear stained t-shirt. The white covers covering them. Scott's scruff, and lastly, the curve of Scott's lips. Scott smiled, pressing a small kiss to Mitch's forehead.

"That's great, Mitchy. See, you got this. You're okay, baby. I'm here now."

He continued the countdown, rubbing over Mitch's cheek with his thumb. Four things Mitch could touch (Scott's shirt, the covers, his own hands, the pillow), three things he could hear (Scott's breath, the covers creaking whenever they moved a little, and the rare patter of rain on his window), two things he could smell (the conditioner he had used that night and Scott), and one thing he could taste (the mint of his toothpaste).

Mitch's breathing had evened out by now, though Scott could still see tears running over his cheeks. The taller cupped Mitch's cheeks with both his hands now, shimmering down to what almost could be considered eye-level. Their legs entangled themselves out of automatism, and Scott could feel, see, and hear Mitch let out a shaking breath. He smiled, and pressed a kiss to Mitch's forehead, lingering for a couple seconds, eyes closed as he felt Mitch relax some more.

"You with me, honey?"

Mitch nodded, and Scott let his arms slide back in their previous position, running his left one through Mitch's hair, and the other one rubbing small circles on his back. He sighed, closing his eyes again for a moment. He muttered a "good", before silence overtook them.

"Please don't ever leave me." Mitch's voice was muffled a couple minutes later as he slithered his arms around Scott, balling his hands in the back of Scott's shirt and burying his head a little further into his chest.

"Never, Mitchy."

"Promise me?"

"Of course, love. I'm always gonna be here. Promise."

Another kiss atop of his head.

"But you did. I-in my dream, you did..." Fresh tears starting staining Scott's shirt, and small sobs started racking through the tenor's body. Scott could feel his heart shattering again, felt a pit forming in his stomach because of pure helplessness.

"Oh, baby. Never." He tried holding on tighter to the boy without crushing him, shushing him and pressing his hand against the back of Mitch's head. He spread his fingers, letting them fall between his hair and running back and forth.

"Y-you started- started with us, s-said that we- that it would be better to- to not live together be- because- because then B-Beau'd be- be able to move in a-and that we'd grown apart a-and-"

Sobs. Gulps for air. The back of Scott's shirt clenched in his fists.

"A-and then y-you said that i-it'd be- that it'd be better to quit Superfruit f-for a while..."

Scott kept pressing kisses to the top of Mitch's head, whispering promises that he was never gonna leave Mitch, that Mitch was okay and that he was here now.

"A-and then you- you ran away-" Mitch's voice was shaking, and Scott had to close his eyes at how broken he sounded. "a-and we, no one c- could find you a-and I was- I was so _scared,_ Scott. Please. Please. _Please don't leave me_."

"I won't, baby. Never. You're the most important person, our relationship the most important thing, in my life. I don't know what I'd do without you. I'd be miserable. Lost."

Minutes passed, and slowly but surely Mitch calmed down. He was shivering now, but he pressed closer to Scott yet again, seeking the comfort Scott was sure to provide. The latter wasn't sure what to do now. Any other night, he would have stayed until Mitch was asleep, until they both were asleep.

But not tonight. Because Beau was still here. And he couldn't let Beau just stand there. He couldn't make him go home now. Which means Scott was the one that had to leave Mitch.

Because Scott, as Mitch's best friend rather than his lover, didn't have the privilege of spending the night with him that Beau _did_ have.

Which was why, after a couple more minutes, Scott pressed another kiss atop of Mitch's head, pulling back a little. The tenor was still shivering, but his breathing was even, his tears had stopped, and he was calm now.

"Hey, sit up with me?"

Mitch looked at him, puzzled. When Scott moved and his arms fell away from Scott's torso, however, he was quick to move with him.

"Don'tleaveme," he spoke, the words rushing out.

"I'm not, honey, just sit up for me, please, gotta get you out of that cold shirt." Mitch complied, untangling his legs from Scott's and crossing them. He shivered again, his shirt cold from the previous sweat. The contrast between lying underneath the covers, safe in the arms of his best friend, and the cool temperature he kept his room too big of a shift.

Scott's eyes flickered to Beau, who must have been standing in the doorway since Scott had rushed to Mitch's room, and for a second he wished him away. His attention was back to Mitch quick enough, though.

"You want me to get another shirt from your closet?" He almost moved away to get up and go get one, but Mitch grabbing his own shirt between his hands prevented him from doing so.

"Don't leave me, _please_ ," he repeated.

"Sssh, honey, it's only a couple steps. I'll be in your view the whole time, Mitchy."

But Mitch frantically shook his head, tears starting to form in already wide-blown, bloodshot eyes, so Scott didn't move from where he was sitting on Mitch's bed.

"It's okay, love, I'm here. C'mon, honey, arms up."

Scott let his hands travel upwards from Mitch's hips, rubbing his fingers over smooth skin before picking the shirt between them and pulling it over Mitch's head. Knowing Mitch cared for his clothes, even when they were soaked with partly dried sweat and he only used them to sleep in, he folded the shirt carefully and put it away on his bedside dresser.

When he turned back, Mitch hadn't moved, but was simply watching Scott. He smiled at him, setting his hands on Mitch's hipbones and leaning down to press a kiss to his bare stomach. His hands held Mitch's back now, letting the tenor lean back into his touch.

"Beautiful, always so beautiful, Mitchy." He whispered, trailing his lips up to Mitch's collarbone and pressing a kiss over the tattoo.

He then pulled his own shirt off, shivering for a second when the cold air hit his bare chest. His shirt wasn't in the best state either, the front damp from Mitch's tears, but Scott figured it was the best option for now. It was big on his friend, the sleeves threatening to fall off his shoulders. But it smelled of Scott, which he felt like was just what Mitch needed. A mostly dry, warm shirt that smelled of Scott.

"That okay, honey?"

Mitch nodded, wiping at his eyes with his wrist. In every movement that he made, Scott could see he was exhausted. Thinking about it, he was too. The two laid down again, wrapping limbs around each other as their instinct told them to.

"Mitchy? Baby?" Scott prompted, not much later. "I should go back to my own room, honey."

"Stay." A tired whisper.

"Honey, I can't."

"Please." More urgent. Scott untangled his legs from Mitch's, pulled his arm away from where it had been wrapped underneath Mitch to reach the back of his head.

"Love, Beau's here. You're okay."

"Don't want him, _Scott. Please._ "

He was struggling. He _couldn't_ stay. He couldn't do that. Not to Beau, not to Mitch, and not to his own heart. He didn't have that privilege. That was Beau's. Not his. Not now.

"Baby, you'll be okay. I'm just one room away, honey," He paused a couple seconds, contemplating his next words, "You have my shirt. You have Beau."

Mitch shook his head, tears starting to form in his eyes. He reached out to Scott, but there was no shirt for him to grab onto so his hand just reached into nothingness. Scott could feel his heart breaking at what he was doing now. He was so close to caving, to just staying with Mitch. At least until the brunette fell asleep.

"You said you wouldn't ever leave me." Defeated.

Scott felt a lump in his throat, tears now shimmering in his own eyes. He blinked them away quickly, looking away from Mitch for a second.

"I'm not, honey, but I can't sleep here while your boyfriend's still here."

"Then tell him to leave. He can sleep in the guest room. He can go _home_."

Pure despair in Mitch's voice made Scott rethink his decision. But he couldn't. He _couldn't_ send Beau home after 4 in the morning. That'd be cruel. Especially when it was clear that, if Scott were to do that, Scott would be the one in Beau's spot.

Scott shook his head. "You know I can't do that, love."

Judging by Mitch's reaction, Mitch knew that just as well, and he seemed to shrink into himself. His eyes fell, traveling away from Scott's face.

"I'll see you in the morning, okay Mitchy? You're okay, love." He lingered, hesitant to step out of the bed and leave Mitch. Leaving Mitch, especially when he asked, _begged_ for Scott to stay, went against all his instincts. He leaned down to Mitch, pressing a small kiss to the corner of his mouth, barely on his lips.

"Never leaving you. Sleep well, baby."

He got up from the bed, moving the sheets so they covered Mitch again. His friend looked up at him with a combination of a sadness and exhaustion, but Scott could also see a small hint of acceptance. "Thank you, Scotty," he whispered.

"Always, love."

On his way out of Mitch's room, he could feel Beau staring at him. He could hear the covers move as he moved into the bed with Mitch, could hear the mattress creaking a little as he shifted. He could see him wrap an arm around Mitch's torso, spooning him.

He felt a pang in his chest. He bit his lip, turning away on his heels.

When he got into his own bed a couple seconds later, all he could feel was how _empty_ it felt. How _wrong._ All he noticed was how Mitch wasn't there, how he was alone and the sheets were cold and didn't smell of Mitch. Weird, really, how much he always craved his best friend. How empty and alone he felt without him by his side. How he could always perfectly deal with it, unless he had to leave him behind like this.

But he was too exhausted to think any more. He relaxed, lying on his back, limbs spread out, and fell asleep soon enough.

Mitch, on the other hand, couldn't sleep. Beau had pressed a kiss to his neck and fallen asleep almost immediately after crawling in with him. He had shied away when the kiss had been pressed against his neck, wanting other lips to place a kiss there, another arm slung across his chest, keeping him close.

He wanted Scott. He _always_ wanted Scott. Scott, who always knew exactly what to do and what not to do. Which was why, after staring into darkness, shifting his position every few minutes because nothing was comfortable, and seeing time quite literally pass on his alarm clock, he quietly pushed Beau's arm off of him.

He didn't think Beau really noticed when Mitch stepped out of the bed. The air was cold, and he shivered. Scott's shirt came well over halfway to his thighs, and one of the sleeves almost slid off his shoulder, but it didn't provide much to any warmth.

Making the least amount of noise, Mitch closed his bedroom door and tiptoed to Scott's room. The door creaked a little, but there was no movement. Mitch sighed when he saw Scott, though a little disappointment settled over him once he realised that Scott, of course, was asleep already. Not that 'already' was the best choice of word now, but still.

Shoving the covers away and crawling into Scott's bed instantly relaxed him, though. He could feel tension leaving his body, and the familiar smell that was _Scott_ engulfed him. Scott was safe. Scott was here. Scott was _safety_.

Mitch lay his head atop of Scott's chest, entangling his legs with the blonds. Out of what he presumed was a combination of habit and instinct, he felt an arm wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. Mitch let his shoulders drop, and allowed himself to fit in perfectly with Scott's hold. He closed his eyes, muttered "Goodnight, Scotty."

And with a last kiss being pressed atop of his head, he finally fell into a peaceful sleep.

 

 


End file.
